Cleaned 17

By timos111@hotmail.com


The Brad Incident, and the queening session she'd
inflicted on Doug afterward, settled things down for a
couple of days.  But this Christine thing was
definitely unfinished business.

She decided to call and find out which way the wind
was blowing.

"Hello?"

"Janelle."

A short silence on the other end, then -

"I'm glad you called."

"What's up?"

"Do you want to come over?"

A tinge of hopefulness was detectable behind the
nonchalance of her voice.

"Sure."

"I'll be home.  See you then."

Christine opened at her knock and stood aside for
Janelle to enter.

They'd both gone to a bit of trouble over their
appearance, it seemed.  Janelle had on one of the
light summer dresses and elegant pair of pumps Doug
had bought for her on an earlier shopping spree.
Christine was power-dressed in dark tailored skirt and
jacket with shoulder pads, and a white blouse.

No kiss this time.  And a little unsure in her manner,
Janelle noted.

"We never got around to having coffee last time!"

So saying, Christine led the way to the dining area
where a brew was already gently steaming.  They sat at
the large pine table with their cups and some cookies.

"How's the clay statue coming along?' Janelle asked.

"Not much progress, I'm afraid."

It seemed that each had decided not to bring up the
touchy incident (pardon pun) from last time, unless
the other did.  Which thus ensured it didn't get
brought up at all, at least not directly.  They were
both back into art appreciation mode, and they stayed
on that safe ground for a time.

"Have you tried other media?  Sketches?  Oils?"

Janelle had done a bit of web surfing since last time,
and was starting to pick up a bit of the jargon.

"Oh, I sketch.  But I've not much talent for that.  To
me, it's just part of the method for composing a
sculpture.  I guess I'm better at hacking things up!"

"I want to try myself out at something.  But not
sculpture.  Don't have the space, for a start."

"Try some drawing to start off.  All you need's a pad
and pencil.  I can give you some pointers.  And
recommend some books."

Yes, Janelle suspected there might be some heavy-duty
homework coming up, if she were to take this art thing
at all seriously.  Never in the past a very literate
person, she nevertheless did not feel at all put off
by the prospect of some serious mental exercise.
Surprisingly, she felt ready and looking forward to
it.

"What should I draw?  Actual things?  Or my wild
imaginings?"

"Both.  But start to develop those "wild imaginings".
It's through the quality and originality of those that
you make your mark as an artist."

"I've got some pretty wild imaginings, believe me."

"I can well believe it."

For some reason the topic of wild imaginings made her
think of Julie.  Imagining, for example, having the
scrawny W.A.S.P. wench tied down with a butt-plug up
her rear.

"Where's Julie today?"

"At work."

"Julie works, and you don't?"

"I have private income.  I could easily support the
both of us, but I tell her she has to go hold down a
job."

"Why?"

"Got to get her out of the house, so I can
concentrate.  She'd drive me nuts, hangin' around all
day long!"

"Yours is not a relationship of equals, then?"

"Shit no. She's basically a mixed-up kid."

"A kid?  But she's older than you!"

"So?  I still have to take her in hand."

"I guess I shouldn't be prying like this.  I hardly
know her."

"You don't like her much, I can tell."

"But you do?"

"She has certain qualities.  We're all God's children,
and we all have special gifts."

Point taken.

"About your ideas - there's a pretty consistent theme
running through your exhibition."

"Another thing that took awhile to crystallize."

"You seem to have a low opinion of men."

"No, that's over-stating it.  I'm not a man-hater."

"What, then?"

"They're just superfluous.  I can change the washers
on my own taps, thank you very much."

Thirty-something Christine was now wearing a wry
smile.  Her nervousness was easing, and she was even a
bit amused about being quizzed in such an up-front
manner by this young wee slip of a black girl.
Especially one that could be such an obvious
cockteaser.  Or clit-teaser, as the case may be.

"I been comin' across this female superiority stuff on
the internet.  Do you buy into any of that?"

Christine looked at Janelle sharply.  A long pause
ensued.

"I am familiar with the particular philosophy of which
you speak," she said at last.

"But do you buy into it?"

"I myself have helped contribute to it" she answered
simply.

Now it was Janelle's turn to look sharply.  Another
long pause.

"I like men" Janelle opined, "well, some men anyway."

"What makes you think I don't like men?"

"The way you portray them is not what I'd call
affectionate."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Janelle, but I'm a
lesbian.  Men are bound to be a low priority in my
affections."

"But if I read your artworks right, you do like to see
men suffer."

"Good job too!" Christine answered coolly.  "Womankind
has to show men what the other half has had to endure
all these millennia!"

"So, this liking of yours for suffering, if that's
what it is, or how I read it - is it strictly limited
to the male gender?"

"Not necessarily" Christine said guardedly, after a
few seconds.

"And your motivation for it - is it strictly
political?"

Another long pause.  Christine's hazel eyes were
staring into Janelle's in a way that seemed to search
out her very soul.

"Not strictly."

Janelle mulled this over, before deciding to edge this
woman even closer to her ultimate goal.

"Is it possible that Julie might have to suffer a
little, those times when you "take her in hand?""

"It's possible."

Janelle met the older woman's cool gaze without even a
flinch.

"Do you only give out shit, or can you also take it?"

"Where're you going with this, Janelle?"

"I think you know" Janelle responded mysteriously.

"'Cos if you want to fuck me, you only have to say the
word."

"If I fuck you, it'll be my way.  And I promise you
this - you won't fuckin' know what's hit you!"

By now Janelle's demeanor of cuddly sex kitten had
long gone.  Now, she was a tigress.  At once awe-
inspiringly beautiful, and deadly.

Christine's eyes had widened slightly, then narrowed
almost to slits.  Seconds rolled by in rapt silence.

Then -

"Do it."

Clearly this was assent but, equally clearly,
Christine didn't fully realize quite what she'd
assented to.

Because the look on her face was an absolute picture
when Janelle rose, hooked her fingers into that
elegant brunette coiffure, and hauled the older white
woman out of her seat by the roots of her hair.

"Yeeooowwww!!! Fuck!!!"

Caught off-balance and unable to recover, she stumbled
and fell, sprawling with legs akimbo onto a thick
cream shag-pile carpet.

Janelle quickly shrugged off her summer dress and let
it drop.  Then she pounced, boobs bouncing, to land on
top of Christine and pin her to the deck before she
had a chance to recover.

In terms of physical stature Christine was bigger in
all departments.  But she seemed totally lacking in
any kind of street-fighting experience, and her
efforts to resist were clumsy and uncoordinated.
Janelle, on the other hand, was young, fit, and
street-wise.  Christine got manipulated through hold
after wrestling hold as Janelle progressively ripped
away each item of clothing in her path.

Apart from that first profanity, Christine didn't
utter another sound.  But she fought back, as hard as
she were able, until soon her lungs were heaving from
the exertion.

The tailored jacket was relatively easy to get off
without damage, but the white blouse had buttons
popping in all directions as Janelle tore it open.
One sleeve got ripped from the shoulder as it was
yanked down Christine's arm.  The skirt also suffered,
as Janelle eschewed operating its fastenings in favour
of simply tearing them apart with both hands.

Panties were hardest to get off, but Janelle simply
got astride the other woman's chest and pinned her
arms down to the carpet with her knees, facing back
with fanny pressed to her face.  The frantic heaving
of Christine's hips as she tried to buck off her
captor only served to allow the knicker-elastic to be
slipped off past her bum.

She had a lot of hair.  In fact, she had one of the
hairiest cunts Janelle'd ever come across.

Now, the bra.

Janelle leapt up to spin around, and pinned Christine
again before she even had a chance to react.  The bra
just got torn apart, straps yanked away from their
anchor points by Janelle's grasp.

Christine had big ones - something Janelle had noticed
on previous occasions.  They were much bigger than
Janelle's.  Real udders, kinda shapeless once they'd
spilled out of their bra cups.  Now they were rolling
about like loose deck cargo in a storm, as Christine
continued to buck her hips in a vain and tiring effort
to throw Janelle off.  Her struggles slowed, and were
soon replaced by pure breathless panting.

Time to settle things down a little, Janelle thought.
Spinning around again and re-pinning Christine's arms
with her legs, Janelle squatted back to once more
bring her twat down firmly onto the other's face.
Janelle hadn't had a chance yet to remove her own
panties, but they were skimpy and it was a simple
matter to pull the gusset to one side.

Then she began grinding gently, to snuff out the
sounds of protest and enjoy the sensations being
imparted to her tush by the squirming visage beneath.

The landscape in front was enjoyable, too.  A vista of
broad pale hips, meaty thighs with a touch of
cellulite here and there, a cute tummy roll, and one
of the furriest fannies in Christendom.  Lovely!

Christine's initial shock at finding herself with the
black woman's vagina forcibly pressed to her nose
seemed to be wearing off now.  On the contrary, it
seemed to be having a pacifying effect on Janelle's
prisoner.  Much how a falconer knows that slipping a
hood over an agitated bird's head will settle it down,
so Janelle had done the right thing by covering
Christine's face with her ass.

In fact Janelle was now confident enough about matters
being sufficiently in hand to reach down and start
fondling the thick mass of chestnut curls spreading
out from Christine's mound down to her inner thighs.
This brought some muffled whimpers up from beneath.

The squirming stopped, to be replaced by somewhat
space-restricted licking and sucking.  Janelle was
able to cease the grinding of her hips and switch that
part of her anatomy over to auto-pilot.  She was
getting increasingly interested in the hirsute
genitals that lay before her, though somewhat
distracted by what was now being done to her own.

Janelle's hand cupped Christine's bushy mound in
earnest.  Her middle finger was now able to penetrate
the fleshy pink folds within that rug, and did so
rhythmically.

Christine was loose.  Loose and sloppy.  There seemed
room for her to take in three cocks at once, if she'd
been that way inclined.

But more on that in a moment, because Janelle was
coming now.  It kind of sneaked up out of nowhere, and
burst like a bombshell in her loins.  The dancing
tongue on her snatch flickered and stabbed as she
shuddered and shook, until finally the shock waves had
passed and then it was just too sensitive, she had to
pull away.

Janelle turned suddenly over and lay full-length upon
Christine, tit-to-tit and fanny-to-fanny.

And face to face.

Christine was still a little cross-eyed and having
trouble focussing, after Janelle's initial sexual
assault upon her.

It was these very reactions that had done it for
Janelle.  She'd really wanted to see that look of
stunned amazement when Christine had been hurled to
the floor.  And really wanted Christine to try and
fight with her.  Fight valiantly, but futilely.
Janelle's victory was so much sweeter for the struggle
to obtain it.

Feral instincts sated, Janelle now felt more tender
toward this woman.

She bent her head forward and kissed Christine gently
on the lips.

Christine didn't respond at first and seemed still in
a state of shock, but after a while began delicately
kissing back.

Her lips progressively softened and parted, melting
under the ministrations of Janelle's probing tongue.
This developed into a french kiss that just seemed to
just go on and on.

Girls were so lovely to kiss, Janelle thought.  No
scratchy stubble.  So smooth, so sweet.  So tasty!

While the kiss was still intact, Janelle groped
blindly about for some of the shreds of Christine's
clothing that lay about them.  Locating much of the
blouse she'd torn asunder, Janelle got it by one
sleeve and positioned it near Christine's out-flung
arms.  Pulling two wrists together, she deftly bound
the sleeve around them like a rope and tied it off.

Christine could have fought, could have resisted, but
didn't.  She acted like she hadn't even noticed, so
intent was she upon returning Janelle's kiss.

Janelle then broke away and stood up, straddling
Christine with a foot either side of her.  Slowly,
deliberately, she slid her panties off, and released
the catch on her bra.

Christine gasped admiringly as Janelle's boobs bounced
into view.

Janelle got down on all fours over her captive, and
dangled her chest over the wondrous white woman's
face.  Christine immediately latched on to one of the
black berry-like teats, and began suckling like an
infant.  Janelle found it most stimulating, and after
a minute pulled back so Christine had to release and
could take up the other one.

Janelle shifted to one side, keeping her bust over the
other woman's face but laying her body at her side.
This freed up her hand to play with the loose, hairy
vulva that her partner's parted legs had left gaping.

Using the side of her hand to part the dense brush and
get it mostly out of the way, she found a slick and
soft love channel in the clearing thus created.  Her
probing fingers practically fell inside, causing soft
whimpers from the otherwise inert carcass beneath her.

Janelle felt the urge to taste some titty for herself.
She pulled back, and dove down on the quivering mounds
piled high on Christine's chest, each spilling over
toward her armpits.  Her titties may have been big,
but the nipples were small and almost teatless.  They
gave these breasts a blind appearance, like a truck
with no headlights.

But licking each flat areola soon made a little bud
pop up seemingly out of nowhere, still tiny but now
stiff and erect.  Something you could almost get your
lips around, and Janelle did her best to do just that.
Her hand was still working the other girl's fanny,
first with two and now with three fingers inside,
thrusting like a cock.

There still seemed room for more, and Janelle got
seized by the urge to really stretch this lady.
Breaking away from the big soft pillows of Christine's
chest, she got herself back and parted those pale
dimpled thighs even wider.  Bringing her hand up
against the furry bulge of Christine's vulva, she
formed her fingers to a point that began to penetrate
the glistening pink lips in the furrow between.

Things went well up to the second knuckle, but then
the going got tight.  Christine grunted a little as
her vestibule took the strain, but otherwise just lay
there without protest, bound arms outstretched above
her head.

Janelle was fascinated that she'd even got this far.
About half of her hand had disappeared from view,
seemingly swallowed up in thick dark-brown
undergrowth.  She'd never done this to a woman before.
That it was even possible was due partly to petite
Janelle having small hands, but mainly to the fact
that a fuck with Christine would literally, as the
saying goes, be like lobbing a jug of cream up 5th
Avenue.

Janelle pressed on, and had got her hand in almost up
to the wrist when she felt things bottom out.
Christine lay spread-eagled, not moving, scarcely
breathing, eyes tight shut but mouth open as if making
a silent cry.

The pink bud of her clit had popped up out of its
hood, and Janelle bent forward to lick it.  Christine
immediately jolted as if getting an electric shock.
So naturally Janelle did it again.  And again.  And
this time began a gentle thrusting with her hand up
the tight-stretched tunnel it was buried in, fucking
it like a giant-sized cock as she licked and nibbled
at the exposed clit above.

"OH - MY - GOD!!!"

An immense trembling and shuddering came over
Janelle's transfixed captive, and she felt
contractions squeezing about her immersed hand.  It
seemed to go on for ages, and Janelle maintained her
oral stimulation of the quaking woman throughout.
Until she could bear it no more, and had to beg
Janelle to stop.

Janelle delicately withdrew her hand from her
companion's sex, and slithered up her torso to come to
rest with her face nestled against that enormous
bosom.

They snuggled like that for many silent minutes.
Janelle was alert but Christine had her eyes closed
and seemed half dazed, almost in a stupor.  Her hands
were still bound above her head by the sleeve of her
ruined white blouse.

Finally Christine's faculties re-surfaced again from
deep within her subconscious, and her eyes flickered
open.

"Jesus!" was all she could say.

Silence stretched on for another few minutes, then
Christine brought her eyes to focus upon Janelle.

"You've done this before, haven't you!"

"Done what?"

"Girls.  You've fucked girls before."

"Yep."

"You little bitch!" Christine said ruefully.  "First
your "gay-curious" routine like you're a genuine
first-time sistah, then your distress about being hit-
upon by a dyke like me - it was all just an act!"

"I plead the Fifth on that one.  Anyway, how was it?"

"Never have I felt so violated."

A pause, as she groped for words.

"So stretched.

"So full.

She turned and looked lovingly into Janelle's sweet
dark face.

"So ... so fucking horny!"

"So I was right - you do have a taste for the rough
stuff!"

"I've never let anyone treat me like that before, man
or woman!"

"But you let me?"

Christine's handsome face was tender as she gazed into
Janelle's big dark eyes.

"You're different, Janelle.  You're special.  One-in-
a-million."

"How so?"

"You inspire me.  Artistically.  And clitorally."

"I'd sensed that from the first moment we met."

"Yeah, me too.  I knew we'd get to fuck sooner or
later."

"Did you think we'd fuck like this?"

"No.  I wasn't prepared for anything so abusive.  Are
you always like that?"

"Not always.  But there's times when I've got to have
it that way."

"That's your prerogative.   Funny thing, though.  When
it came down to it, you made me feel privileged to be
abused by you."

She added softly - "It's a special quality you have -
a special gift."

"Thanks.  It's sweet of you to say so."

"Of course, I get a little rough with Julie sometimes.
Not as violent as this, but I like to be bossy with
her.  She just seems to ask for it, really."

"Personally, I'd like to tie her down and fuck her
with a strap-on."

"You may just get your chance ... " Christine said
dreamily.

"What's that?"

"Nothing.  She is scared of you, though."

"Why?"

"She finds you intimidating."

"Me?  Intimidating?"

"Of course.  Number one - you're devastatingly good-
looking and she's rather plain.  Number two - you're
fucking the man she once loved.  Number three - with
Julie, and I have to be frank here, race is an issue."

"Oh yeah?  And is race an issue with you, too?"

"No."

They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own
thoughts.

After a time, Janelle came to realise she was idly
fondling Christine's bushy pubic hair.  Not only that,
Christine's languid expression showed that her mental
faculties were becoming somewhat absorbed by what
Janelle was doing to her.

"Ready for Round Two?" Janelle enquired.

"I wanna worship those breasts of yours."

"Go right ahead."